


Parent Night

by Benga



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Fluffy Ending, Gen, POV First Person, Parenthood, Spoilers through Skin Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benga/pseuds/Benga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much has changed for Harry in the years following his death and revival. His new life has come at a price- a laundry list of new responsibilities, each more difficult than the last. He has now fully accepted the roles of both Winter Knight and Warden of Demonreach, but one duty remains at which he has not yet been tested:</p><p>Fatherhood.</p><p>Maggie's life is already established in Chicago by the time he returns. Now, Harry's playing catch-up, and he's a bit out of his comfort zone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parent Night

I arrived at the meeting site two hours early. Evening had already set in when I stepped off the concrete sidewalk and into the adjoining park, and the bustle of Chicago nightlife was muted to a hum as I walked deeper into the trees. After a few minutes, my destination came into view- a low, sprawling complex of buildings surrounded on three sides by trees. It faced a large parking lot, beyond which lay an access road leading out into the general mess of Chicago roadwork.

I stopped beneath a sparse cluster of trees a few hundred yards back and shivered as I felt the sun set, the magical ambiance of day and light and life shifting to that of night - not dark, by any measure, but carrying a metaphysical weight not easily ignored.

_It’s not a portent when it happens every day, Harry._

I began my slow, careful circling of the buildings, scanning every avenue of potential movement for activity. There was a low level of foot traffic within and between the buildings, but nothing to set off my alarms. An hour passed, and I had examined what I could of the six small buildings from the woods, even walking along the back of the parking lot under a light veil to end in my original position. Nothing sinister had popped out, but in my experience that really doesn’t mean much in terms of actual safety. 

I slowly exhaled through my nose. I had considered doing some intel gathering the night before, but the security was good enough that I hadn’t wanted to risk getting caught and blowing it all to hell. I stretched my back, crouched down, and settled in to wait.

About half an hour later, the first cars crunched down the gravel road. Slowly at first and then in greater numbers they began to fill the neatly painted pavement, doors slamming and a low mumble of voices rising into the air, occasionally punctuated by an exclamation or a call across the lot. The people drifted through the main entry and into the buildings, chatting.

Five minutes left.

The stream of cars had slowed to a trickle, and then to almost none- most of those coming had already arrived. Now or never, Harry.  A non-trivial portion of my brain voted heartily in favor of ‘never’- I was taking a pretty big risk in coming here, and I knew it. This could go bad in so very many ways, but- well.  I didn’t want to disappoint.

I straightened, wincing slightly at the complaints lodged by my ankles, knees, hips, and other various joints, and then sighed at the fact that I’m now apparently old enough to have complaining joints.

“Ah, what the hell,” I muttered, “in for a penny.”

I looked both ways before exiting the woods and beginning my walk towards the entrance. The last thing I needed now was someone asking questions about my less-than-entirely-normal direction of arrival.

As I approached, I got a better look at the flimsy pop-up table set up near the entrance, staffed by a smiling, middle-aged woman. The last of the small group ahead of me had already spoken with her and passed by as I drew closer.

The woman was rearranging cards on the table, and looked up at my arrival. “Welcome t- oh! Ah. How, ah, can I help you, sir?” she asked, smiling nervously.

“Well, if I could get a large cheese pizza, that’d be great,” I said, guilelessly.

The woman’s eyebrows knit together in confusion above her increasingly worried smile.

I took pity. “I’m here for the, the teacher’s conference.”

And so I was. Harry Dresden, wizard extraordinaire, come to co-mingle with the other parents of Maggie’s class and presumably hear teachers tell tales of our children’s exciting and action-packed days at school. Or something. It’s possible that I don’t actually know what happens at PTA meetings. Or if this would even qualify as a PTA meeting.

“Oh! Oh. Well! Of course you are. I’m Denise, the elementary school secretary,” she said, concern now warring with some measure of embarrassment. “May I have your child’s name?”

A small part of my brain reacted strongly to the question. Down, boy.

“Maggie. Maggie Dresden.”

Christ. She’d been living with me now for several months, but saying her name - complete with what was now our shared last name - still made my heart lurch. As the staffer bent over, flipping through name cards, I frowned slightly. When I’d told her why I’d come, I had started to say I was here for parent night before changing words. For whatever reason, my brain was still struggling with the concept of calling myself a parent, though tonight was probably not the best time for deep self-reflection on the topic. My lips twisted in a wry smile. Of course, Harry, parent night was definitely the best place to be when not wishing to examine parenthood.

“Here we are!” Denise said, beaming as she extracted a small square of paper with my name in small, bolded capital letters and a safety pin on the back. “Thank you very much for attending, Mr. Dresden. Your daughter is in Mrs. Daily’s classroom, in building two, and may I just say she is a little angel. You must be very proud. Enjoy the evening! Hello, how are you?”

Denise smoothly turned away from me to greet another latecomer, and I stood there for a moment with nametag in hand, slightly off-balance from the casual comment and not sure how to respond. My chest felt a little funny. I gave myself a mental shake and stepped back from the table, turning towards the path to building two.

A light fall breeze chilled the back of my neck as I walked, and I became uncomfortably aware of my lack of duster for perhaps the ten billionth time that evening. This was a public place, filled with innocent people- a school, for god’s sake, even if it was after hours- and the little campus was impossible to secure in any meaningful way without a small platoon. Maggie had been with me all summer, and she’d attended this school for three years already; it would not be hard for an interested party to predict my presence here. I very well could be drawing fire onto every soul here, and you can take that phrase as metaphorically or literally as you’d like.

Still, Maggie would in all likelihood continue to attend Riverview Preparatory Day School until she graduated from high school, and if I was going to take up the mantle of, well, taking care of her, I did want to make as good an impression on the teachers and school community as was possible. A good impression is hard enough to make when you’re a giant, scar-covered stork without the addition of a billowing, black duster. And so, with great regret, it was left behind, and I traded my usual pithy tee and old Lee’s for a white, long-sleeved button-down and a pair of jean with no suspicious stains. I’d even managed to get about half the cat hair off the shirt. Sophistication, thy name is Harry Dresden. I’d switched to wearing a full pair of gloves instead of my usual single glove, and hoped they wouldn’t seem terribly out of place given the early fall chill.

Of course, good impressions are one thing, and tempting fate is something else. Underneath my button-down was something of a new project of mine- a white silk shirt, carefully embroidered with copper, gold, silver, and even platinum thread over the course of several months. I didn’t even know they _made_ platinum thread, but it turns out that if you’ve got the money, svartalves will make pretty much anything into anything for you. I was still getting used to being loaded, as evidenced by the fact that the majority of my wardrobe contained the odd stain, tear, or loose thread. I will defend my right to shop at secondhand stores to the death, but being able to buy top-shelf magical materials and reagents without concern for money is fantastic. After a month’s careful work, the embroidered silk wasn’t quite as strong as the leather of my duster, but was still better than Kevlar and far less obtrusive.

Regardless, the absence of the usual weight on my shoulders made me uncomfortable. I wrinkled my nose. Yep. Definitely the only reason I was uncomfortable here tonight.

Still distracted by my thoughts, I arrived at the appropriate building and entered to find a long, single hallway with doors to classrooms on both sides. A second set of double doors led back outside at the far end of the hall. It looked like most everyone had already found their child’s classroom, though a few groups of three or four adults remained in the hall- perhaps parents talking privately to teachers, or simply old acquaintances catching up with each other before entering their respective children’s classrooms.

Mrs. Daily’s classroom was the first on the right, and I paused momentarily before reaching for the handle. I was mildly surprised to find that I was nervous- not the jittery nervousness that can come in the wait before a fight, but the kind that sits there quietly and reminds you that you don’t know what’s coming next. I suppose that’s fair, because quite frankly I had no clue what was going to happen even if the supernatural world _did_ do me the favor of butting out of my life tonight. I couldn’t help but notice that most of the parents walking in had already seemed familiar with one another. And here I thought my days of being the new kid in class were over.

My method of dealing with new-kid syndrome in the past had been open belligerence towards anyone who gave me a problem, but that strategy would… probably not go over all that well here. I found myself being far more concerned with these people’s opinions of me than I ever had been about the opinions of my own childhood teachers and classmates. It wasn’t hard to figure out why, either- these weren’t my teachers, they were Maggie’s teachers; not my classmates, but the parents of Maggie’s classmates.

_No hesitation storming the castle of a wicked faerie or a cavern of nameless horrors, but this is going to trip you up?_

I swear, my brain is seriously messed up when it comes to assessing potentially unpleasant situations. I scowled and grabbed the door handle, and then tried to make my face look less like it wanted to be anywhere but here before pulling the door open.

There was enough noise and movement in the classroom that very few people glanced over at my entrance, though those who did definitely stared a bit before realizing their rudeness. They then politely switched to staring from the corners of their eyes while pretending not to. Given the combination of long sleeves and gloves, my stature and the thin vertical scars on my face were the only particularly noteworthy things about my physical appearance, though I suppose it’s possible that my body language wasn’t necessarily radiating comfort and approachability.

There looked to be around twenty-five people in the room, about equal to the number of little desks. My god, were we supposed to sit in those, too? If so, any impression of me as an intimidating figure was about to be destroyed.

I shook my head as I looked around the room. The far side of the classroom was lined with windows, all of which currently acted more like mirrors as internal light reflected against the darkness outside. The walls were covered in neatly arranged, education posters in vibrant shades of colors which were quite possibly harmful to the human eye. A corkboard hanging near the door was stuck full of overlapping layers of printed out designs, children’s art, clusters of stickers, and various other media to create a garish collage which was surprisingly appealing to the eye. It looked like the result of happy kids who were proud of their work- innocent, joyful, and blissfully messy.

Parents stood chatting in small groups around the room, in front of displayed art or a table of shoebox dioramas or just among the desks. A small table with refreshments was set up by the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. Not knowing quite where else to go, I followed the natural gravitational pull of free food.

As I filled my little paper plate with cheap cookies and brownies (and, after due consideration, a few baby carrots, as a concession to the now internalized voice of a lecturing health-nut Molly), I could feel eyes on my back which didn’t seem to be coming from the restrained interest of the side-eye starers.  I heard footsteps approaching the table which, I told myself quite reasonably, could simply be a person as equally interested in knock-off candy bars as myself.

I took a few steps to the end of the table such that they would need to follow me, if they were interested in doing so, and so that my back would be to the empty corner when I turned to face the owner of the feet in question. He was an inch or so below average height, with a short buzz cut and slightly narrower shoulders than might be expected from his stocky build. It gave the impression that he carried a bit more body fat than I suspected he actually did.  His posture read as friendly, but I also got the distinct impression that he was consciously aware of his body language and what it was saying at any given moment. He offered me a quick grin.

“You’re a new face around here.”

I raised an eyebrow and made a show of looking around. “What, is it obvious? I thought I was blending in with the locals.”

He laughed. “Riverview’s a small school, and most of the kids have been here a while. You end up recognizing everyone pretty quickly. Plus, you don’t exactly look like the type who’s easily overlooked or forgotten. Your kid new this year?”

I paused, not entirely sure how to answer.

_Nah, she’s been here for a few years, I was just dead at first, and then spent a while recuperating in another dimension, and then I lived on a creepy island that doesn’t officially exist. But I’m back in Chicago now, ta-da!_

“No, I was just- out of the country.” Technically true, given the months I’d spent in the Nevernever. “Some friends were taking care of her until I got back, so I guess they’d be the ones you’ve seen.”

He hummed. “Yeah. Same thing happened to me, but my partner was still here and my deployment was done in time for me to see my baby start second grade. Glad you didn’t miss the beginning of the year, but damn, it sounds like those are some good friends you’ve got there. The name’s Alf, Alf Miller. My little girl’s Cary.”

He offered his hand, and I took it.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Harry,” I said, carefully excluding my last name, which had happily not been included on my obligatory nametag. I might not be known to this crowd, but that didn’t mean I should encourage knowledge of my presence here. “And yeah, God only knows how much I owe the Carpenters. I wasn’t actually depl-”

“The Carpenters?” he exclaimed, interrupting me. “Wait, is your kid the one with that bear of a dog? Jesus, man, do you know how many problems that’s caused me?”

I blinked, derailed. “No, I- what, did Mouse do something?” My dog was better behaved than I’ve ever been, so Alf’s outburst caught me somewhat off-guard. Usually Mouse covers for my bad behavior, not the other way around.

“Oh, he hasn’t done a single thing wrong. That’s the problem. Cary _loves_ that dog. I’m not sure she wouldn’t rather go home with it instead of me, some days.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how many times she’s asked me for a puppy now? ‘Cause God knows I lost count after the first fifty or so times. Where on Earth did you find that thing, anyway? I didn’t think any service dog program would use a breed that large.”

Alf spoke at a measured pace, but without the slightest pause between sentences. I dove into the small break.

“He didn’t come from a program, though by now I think he has all the same paperwork. I actually found him and his litter in a cardboard box in an empty building.” Again, technically true, I just omitted the part where they had been dognapped from Tibet by pyromaniac demon monkeys. “I gave up the rest of the litter, but kept Mouse. To be entirely honest, the whole thing was kinda unintentional on my part, Mr. Miller.”

“Alf, please; no need for formality. And are you telling me you trained that dog?” he asked, sounding impressed. “Damn. You’re good.”

“If I said I did that, I’d be lying,” I said, lifting my hands in a protestation of innocence. “You wouldn’t believe me, but I swear the dog did all of the work.”

Alf chuckled. “Whatever you say, man. Either way, if it weren’t the best trained animal I’ve ever seen I don’t think I’d be comfortable having it within ten miles of my kid. Nice name, by the way.”

“Yeah, ‘Mouse’ seemed a lot more self-explanatory when he could fit in my hand. I didn’t realize at the time that he was going to end up the size of a small car.” I paused for a moment. Alf seemed pleasant, and God knows I was floundering. “Mind if I ask you a question that may seem stupid?”

“Not at all.”

“What, exactly…” I trailed the question off, gesturing vaguely at the rest of the room.

“…Happens at an open house?” he supplied.

I smiled ruefully. “Heh. Yeah, pretty much. I haven’t really been to one of these before, so…”

He waved away my awkward explanation. “On our end? Nothing much. Every teacher does it slightly different, but generally they get up in front of the rest of us and talk about the material the kids will be covering during the year, any special field trips that are on the books- especially if they’re looking for chaperones- stuff like that. Probably do a little presentation of stuff the kids have done so far.”

I shrugged. “Seems straightforward. And in the meantime, we- what? Sit in tiny desks and eat small snacks off small plates and try not to feel like we accidentally invaded Lilliputia?”

“That about sums it up,” he said, laughing. “You’re a funny guy, Harry.”

“You know, Alf,” I said, returning his grin, “you would be absolutely blown away by just how many people disagree with you on that.”  

He raised an eyebrow questioningly, but laughed anyway. Alf seemed like the kind of guy who laughed easily and enjoyed it. “Well, I’m glad I came over here to introduce myself. Like I said, new faces aren’t all that common and you certainly cut an interesting figure. I’m sure you get that a lot.”

The corner of my mouth twitched up, and I gave a ‘what can you do?’ shrug in reply.

He turned to go, saying, “I’ll probably see you around the place, so it was good to formally meet you.”

“Likewise.”

I watched Alf thread his way over to a desk labeled ‘CARY’ before turning back to the refreshments for one last graze. I felt bad for not correcting his assumption that I’d been in the military, but to be honest it wasn’t a bad cover and strictly speaking I hadn’t lied to him about it. If directly asked, I’d probably have to come up with a different excuse, but until then I was okay with my sudden appearance being explained in such a relatively plausible way.

Once my plate was fully loaded, I turned to look for a seat. Most of the tiny desks had a sweater or purse marking them as taken, if they weren’t already occupied by parents performing varying feats of contortion. Each one was labeled with a name written in big, cartoon bubble letters. It looked as though we were supposed to find our kid’s seat to use, which made me snort. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had an assigned seat.

Though, now that I thought about it, there technically was assigned seating at the Warden Command meetings; I had just pointedly ignored it. Eh, whatever.

Maggie’s desk was easy to spot- it was in the back corner, the only desk moved out of the neat grid arrangement to grant more room to its adjacent aisle. As I picked my way carefully through the minefield of crowded desks and bags waiting to trip the unwary, I could see why. Someone had, with great care, taped down a name label reading ‘MOUSE’ to the carpet next to Maggie’s desk. How my dog navigated this room without knocking things over was a complete mystery to me.

The seats in front and beside my daughter’s desk were empty - some of the only empty desks in the room - but the name labels indicated that they were usually filled by students whose parents were not present tonight. I was glad. Maggie already had too many elements of her life which could potentially alienate her from others her age without having to deal with a physical circle of separation from her classmates.

I set my plate down on the desk and stood for a moment, contemplating the chair. It was attached to the desk by two metal rods on the right side, so it couldn’t be moved closer or farther away from the desk. It also meant that no legs could poke out from under the desk on the right. I sighed. It was a good thing there would be no photographic evidence that this evening occurred.

I started to wedge myself into the desk, before having to stop and reposition so that I was essentially going sidesaddle, with my legs both bent awkwardly out to the left. The thought of making a repeat performance of that in plain view of the two dozen total strangers in the room made some heat rise into my cheeks, and I was suddenly very grateful for my daughter’s seat being in the back corner. 

I was still trying to squirm into a position that felt a little less like I was going to rupture something when a tall, older woman walked into the classroom and up to the front, gaining the attention and relative silence of the room with the practiced ease of one who has dealt with far tougher audiences.

“Hello, all, my name is Anne Daily. As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I am your child’s teacher for this coming year. We had a slideshow all set up but I’ve been told we’re having some technical difficulties, so I’ll just go ahead off my hard copy.”

I glanced up. In the center of the ceiling a sort of black box extended down about a foot, with cables twisting back up through a hole in one of the panels. There were almost certainly supposed to be blinking lights or something on the box, but there was no sign of activity. Whoops. I suddenly really hoped that the whiteboard was just a whiteboard, and not one of the fancy markerboard screens that was interactive and did various electronic things. Man, magic caused a lot less trouble in the classroom when I was a kid.

As Mrs. Daily began her run-down of the academic goals of the Riverview fourth grade class, the door opened and a woman quietly slipped in. Outside, it looked like a light rain had started, but was not yet hard enough to be heard over the voices inside. The woman seemed to know what seat she was heading for without needing to search and she moved carefully, watching her feet as tried to walk behind the last row as unobtrusively as possible. She reached the empty desk to my right and shrugged off her wet coat, only then looking up. Her eyes caught on me immediately, and the blood drained from her face like a switch had been flipped.

Ah. Damn.

I didn’t recognize her, but then, I hadn’t been a regular at Mac’s in a number of years and my primary involvement with the Paranet was as a (quite literal) troubleshooter.  Her reaction said that, although I might not know her, she was quite familiar with me. Whoever she was, she was probably a minor talent. Her back had gone ramrod straight and she stood very still, though I could see little tremors in her hands. Her eyes darted behind her and then rapidly back, like she was weighing escape options but didn’t want to look away. I sighed internally. And talking with people who hadn’t known of me had been so nice. I suppose it was indeed too much to ask that the supernatural community not interrupt this evening. 

I put both my hands on the desk and very carefully turned to face the front of the class, though I could still see her in my periphery. Her shoulder jerked in some aborted movement. I tried to think calm thoughts and ignore the pins and needles gathering in my legs. By now she had been standing stock-still for a noticeable amount of time, and she was starting to get glances from the rest of the back row - glances which, of course, slid over to me as they followed the direction of her stare.

Damn, damn, damn. Could I not even be given a _chance_ to pretend to normalcy? Not even for an hour?

I focused on the teacher discussing what was, apparently, a planned weekend trip to Amish Country in February and tried to ignore the curious looks and the petrified woman. Maybe she would sit down if I ignored her for a sufficiently long time. The pins and needles were intensifying. I heard someone in the back row whisper to another person, and I ignored them even more emphatically. 

My God, I was losing all sensation below the waist. If something did go wrong right now, the best I would be able to manage would be an uncoordinated flop out of my seat and onto the ground. I could feel my embarrassment and frustration simmering towards anger, and let out a slow breath. Calm thoughts.

I finally couldn’t take it, and without turning whispered, “Could you _please_ sit down? Or leave? One of the two?”

Her entire body twitched, and for a moment I thought I’d made a mistake in saying anything at all. Then, she slowly lowered herself into the desk chair, as if a sudden move might make me fly off the handle and blow up the building. She sat the way she had been standing, with every muscle tense and her hands shaking slightly.

The whispers had quieted, but the glances had now spread from the back row to the back two rows. One the other side of the room, I saw Alf give me a puzzled and slightly wary look. I closed my eyes and slowly exhaled through my nose. The woman was clearly terrified and I felt bad for scaring her, but there really wasn’t much I could do to make her feel better other than leave. Except, I was pretty sure that if I stood up she would have a heart attack. If she continued her display of paralyzed fear, it wouldn’t matter how carefully I monitored my appearance or behavior, there was no way in hell this evening was ending well. I resisted the urge to clench my hands into fists. Getting frustrated would really not help any part of this situation.

Not moving my hands, I turned my head to face the woman, who was staring forward in much the same way I had been doing. There was a light sheen of sweat on her brow. I grimaced, and whispered, “Is there any chance you could act less like you’re sitting next to Ted Bundy? Any at all?”

She momentarily tensed even further which, really, I had not thought was possible, and then glanced over to me without moving her head.

I shifted my eyes down to avoid hers, and whispered, “Just for the next, I don’t know, fifteen minutes? I swear I’m not here for trouble. Please.”

She didn’t say anything, but she very incrementally released some of the tension in her shoulders over the next few minutes as Mrs. Daily continued to talk about class size and teaching method. The woman still looked about two seconds and a bad thought away from throwing up, and I cast around for something to say to make her feel less imperiled. We were both here for our kids; maybe I could use that. The name on the desk in front of her declared the seat to belong to Greg. I cleared my throat. The woman didn’t move, but I could feel her attention.

“So, uh, your son is in-”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew I’d made a mistake. The woman’s head jerked most of the way towards facing me, and whatever tension she’d lost came back with a vengeance. Open terror filled had filled her face and she was having no success at all in hiding it.

I realized the source of my error immediately. There are only ever two cases in which a Warden shows interest in your child- if they suspect the kid is wizard material, or if they suspect the kid broke a Law. Best case scenario, your kid might virtually disappear for five to ten years and enter a world where you can’t follow. Worst case scenario, your kid is dead. Honestly, given the recent death rates of Council members, the best case scenario might not actually be all that different from the worst.

And for this mother, the interest was coming not from any old Warden but from the infamous Warden Commander (and erstwhile Winter Knight) Dresden, owner of a particularly… well known track-record. Oh boy. I knocked that one right out of the park.

The poor woman looked like she was moments away from throwing up, screaming, or lunging for my throat, or quite possible all three at the same time. I scrambled for damage control, still whispering in a desperate attempt to not attract any more attention than had already been gathered.

“That’s not- I didn’t mean that, I’m not here for any business like that; I only… look, I’m just, I just came here for the… open... teacher’s conference, night… thing. For parent’s night. I just came for parent’s night. Shit.”

And with that stunning display of eloquence, I dropped my head onto the desk and abandoned all hope of salvaging the evening. I’ve never once in my life been able to pull off ‘normal’, so why I thought I’d be able to do it on this night was beyond me.

I was in the middle of wondering how much of this fiasco was going to blow back on Maggie when I heard an accusatory voice whisper, “Harry Dresden doesn’t have children.”

I lifted my head off the desk (ow, back muscles were not meant to bend in this way) and looked over to see the woman staring at me. No, staring isn’t quite the right word. She was _glaring_ at me. Well, glaring at my shoulder, but considering her previous behavior this was likely her equivalent of slapping me in the face with a white glove and challenging me to a fight. It was the first time she’d spoken since she entered the classroom.

I looked at her sort of blankly for a moment, and said, “No. No, Harry Dresden does not have children.” I turned away and continued, “Of course he doesn’t. Because if he did, then… things might go badly. For the kid. If people knew.”

There was a pause, and then so quietly I almost didn’t hear it, “Oh.” I didn’t look at her.

The teacher had at some point moved on from talking about the academic plans for the year, and switched to the topic of what parents could do to support a strong learning environment in the home. I tried to actually start listening to her and spared a moment to feel guilty for having missed, well, everything up to that point.

_Damn, Harry. You’re really nailing this whole “parental involvement” thing, aren’t you._

I could feel the woman’s eyes boring into the side of my head, but at this point I figured my best chance of escaping without further incident was probably to avoid all interaction and flee as soon as was socially acceptable.

Within a few minutes, thank God, Maggie’s teacher wrapped up her presentation with an invitation for parents to proceed to the cafeteria to see the group projects made by the various grades for their parents. The woman was still staring at me, along with what felt like about a quarter of the other parents. As soon as people started to stand from their desks, I all but bolted from the room. Not that I was running, of course, but with my legs a fast walk covered enough ground to take me through the gauntlet of desks and discarded bags and out the door several steps ahead of everyone else. 

I exited the building and turned left, heading back towards the parking lot instead of following the general current of parents leaving classrooms and walking towards what I presumed to be the cafeteria. The rain had grown from a drizzle to a respectable shower, and the narrow covered walkways were filled with the dense pack of people who wish to move forward but are constrained by similarly impatient people on all sides. I escaped the crush quickly, taking full advantage of my height and other people’s hesitance to get in my path. Within a few seconds of breaking away from the crowd, however, I heard someone call my name.

I turned to see Greg’s mother pull up short about fifteen feet from me. It looked as though she had run to catch me, though her breathless voice and flushed face could have had something to do with the fact that she had apparently decided to confront… I don’t know. A boogeyman, I suppose. I resisted the rise of heat into my own face. I was already leaving; what did she want?

She shifted from one foot to the other for a moment in what looked like a nervous habit, but her eyes never left the general vicinity of my face. After a moment, she spoke. “Is my son in danger at this school?”

I felt the beginning of a sudden spike of anger that was just as suddenly subsumed by weariness. My ability to distinguish which emotional responses belonged to me and which to the mantle seemed to be declining with time, not improving. Perhaps the problem was not with my ability to distinguish the two, but that the two were increasingly becoming one. God, I was tired. I just wanted to be home. “I already told you, ma’am. I wasn’t here about your son.”

She shook her head, though her eyes didn’t move away. “No, I mean- the school. Is the school safe? With…” She trailed off. It seemed like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t hard to guess what was on her mind.

“I would very much like to tell you that your son is perfectly safe here,” I said, speaking as quietly as the rain allowed. “But I can’t make you that promise. I have done all that is in my power to… dissuade my enemies from targeting Maggie.” I took a breath, and continued with as much detachment as I could. “I still cannot guarantee that she will not be attacked, that she won’t be hurt or even killed here. I can’t guarantee that others won’t be hurt or killed as collateral damage. But they are protected.”

For a moment the only sound was the plinking of rain on the metal roofing above us.

“The dog.”

I nodded, briefly wondering if every parent at this school knew Mouse. My dog probably has better social connections than half in politicians in Chicago.

A shadow of a smile flickered across the woman’s face. “Of course that thing belongs to you. And it’s… what, her bodyguard?”

“He,” I said with slight emphasis, “protects her, yes. Were anything to happen, he wouldn’t let harm come to any of the other children, either.”

She accepted that statement fairly easily, all things considered. People never seem to have any trouble believing that Mouse is a good dog when he lays on the charm, despite being built like a Paleogenic death machine. I’d ask him to teach me how he does it, but I suspect it involves soulful puppy eyes and a fuzzy belly.  Too bad for me.

As we spoke, the mother had stepped closer and now faced me directly, no longer looking like she was prepared to cut and run at a moment’s notice. I studied her face. The corners of her mouth were pinched with tension, but her overall demeanor was one of worry, not fear.

“Ma’am, I’d like you to understand, I’m not telling you to do or not do anything. You’re free to act as you wish, and I won’t interfere. But… I would like to ask something from you, if I may.”

She eyed me. When it became clear I was waiting for some signal from her, she nodded for me to continue.

“I think it’d be best if my being here wasn’t too widely known. Obviously, I won’t stop you from saying what you want to who you want, but for safety’s sake I’d like as few beings as possible to know about this. That, and…”

I stopped, considering my words. I know, it’s shocking. Greg’s mother had wrapped her arms around herself, and in the silence bounced very slightly on the balls of her feet, shivering.

“I understand if you want to withdraw your son from my daughter’s class, or otherwise minimize his contact with her. That’s your decision. However, if that’s your plan, I would very much appreciate it if you would tell me in advance.”

“Why?” she asked. Her tone was a balance between confrontation and curiosity.

“I’d like the chance to… explain things to her. When unpleasant things happen without a clear reason, kids tend to attribute it to something they did wrong. I don’t want her to think it’s her fault if the kid she sits next to suddenly starts avoiding her.”

She nodded slowly. “I don’t know yet if I want to do that or not. How exactly am I supposed to let you know if I make that decision?”

“Tell Mouse. He’ll get the message to me.”

“Your dog will relay the message,” she said flatly, giving me a level look. “Are you being serious, Mr. Dresden. It – he – understands English?”

I shrugged. “He goes to school, doesn’t he?”

She stared at me.

“You know, when Maggie graduates they’re probably going to include him in the ceremony.” I mockingly pitched my voice higher. “‘Oh, look, the service dog gets a diploma, too, that’s so cute.’ Ugh. He’s never going to shut up about it. It’s going to be unbearable.”

She stared at me for another moment and slowly nodded again, having apparently decided to disregard the last minute or so of conversation. “I’ll let you know. If – yes. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you." I started to turn away, but stopped and looked back at the worried mother. “I’m sorry, for earlier.” I cleared my throat, and continued, “I didn’t know anyone from our community would be in my daughter’s class, and it was not at all my intention to scare you.  I apologize.”

She didn’t respond. Yup, time to go. Before I could move, though, she abruptly said, “Parent’s night isn’t over, you know.”

“Pardon?”

“The students write letters for their parents. The teachers distribute them after the group displays. You shouldn’t-” Her face colored a bit. “I mean, you might want to stay for that.”

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea, ma’am.”

She shifting from one foot to the other in the cold, on the verge of speaking. I waited, shivering a bit as well. Without my duster, the wind had noticeably more bite.

After a minute, she sharply exhaled her breath. “It’s Bonnie.”

My eyebrows jumped. It’s not like there was much of anything I could do with just a first name, but most people were either unaware of that or paranoid enough to not take the chance. It was an unexpected offering of trust.

“Good to meet you, Bonnie. I’m Harry.”

She looked at me like perhaps I had been kicked in the head one too many times, and smiling, said, “I’d noticed.”

___________________________

 

It was close to eleven by the time I got back to the house. The walk back through the woods had been significantly colder on the way out, and I was mourning the death of my new old car’s heater as I lowered the wards and unlocked the front door. The house was dark but for the low fire still burning in the living room fireplace.

A dark figure rose from the couch in front of the fireplace and turned to face me, revolver in hand. Despite being backlit by the fire, light somehow still caught on bright blue eyes.

“I expected you home a little sooner, Harry.”

“Sorry for making you wait up, Father,” I said, as the priest shuffled into the front hall.

Father Forthill smiled. “I’ve been babysitting the children of absent friends longer than you know. You need never apologize for the hour of your return.”

“Your help is much appreciated, as ever,” I said, returning his smile. “Nice piece. I hope it wasn’t out when Maggie was up?”

“Really, Harry,” he said, giving me a reproachful look, “do you think I’d leave a loaded weapon lying about the place?”

“Not in the slightest.” I headed into the kitchen, with Father Forthill a few steps behind. Ever since he took a severe beating a few years ago, he walked with a pronounced limp. I knew his joints bothered him much more these past years, but it hadn’t seemed to slow him down in any sense but the physical.

“So,” Forthill said, in far too casual a tone, “how did it go?”

I let out a series of inarticulate grumbles, my head stuck deep inside the ice box as I rooted around for something to heat up.

“Hmmm. It went that well.”

 I pulled out some left-overs, and checked the wood level in the belly of the kitchen’s wood-burning stove. “Well, people were in turn concerned, confused, terrified, and angry. So, it could have gone better. On the other hand, no one died, so it could have gone worse.”

“I see.” The father pulled out a chair, and I heard him sit down with a quiet noise of discomfort. “And what did you think of Riverview?”

I closed the heavy iron door and sighed, sitting back on my heels. “It’s great. It’s perfect, really. Good teachers, good program, good school. And Maggie loves it. I gotta admit, though, father,” I said, as I stood, “I’m still not all that excited about doing this as a yearly event. _Fuego_.” I felt the kindling catch inside the stove, and I walked over to sit down at the table with Forthill, who was giving me a funny look.

“What, did I get glitter on me or something? I swear, that stuff was on every conceivable surface of the art room. And the cafeteria, which raises some concerns.”

Father Forthill smiled at me, and slightly bemusedly said, “Yearly?”

I stopped checking my clothing for errant art supplies and froze, sensing danger. “Yes?” I said slowly, drawing out the word.

He laughed, and said, “Harry, you do realize that Riverview holds parent night at the beginning of every school semester, and at the end of the year, don’t you?”

I did some quick addition and dropped my head onto the table with a strangled groan. “You’re telling me I’m going to be going to another _twenty-six_ of these? I barely got through one without catastrophe!”

“Well, that’s not really what I’m saying, no.”

I looked up at him from the table, scowling. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what you just said.”

“They _have_ three parent nights a year. There’s no law that says you need to attend them all.”

I blinked at him in confusion. “What? I can’t just not go. I mean, if something important comes up, yeah, but I can’t just skip because… I don’t know, just because I want to.” I glanced up at the ceiling in the direction of her bedroom. “She wrote a letter for me.”

Forthill gave me another assessing look.

I threw my hands in the air. “What? What’s with the looks?”

His face remained solemn, but his eyes crinkled with good humor. With a grunt, he pulled himself to his feet and clapped me on my shoulder. “You know, Harry, no one gets an instruction manual when they become a parent. Some need one more than others.”

“Gee, thanks, father,” I said sourly.

His straight face did break into a smile at that. “What I’m saying is, I know you doubt your abilities in this area. You fear you won’t know what to do, and that you’ll make mistakes. I’m telling you that no parent knows what to do, and all parents make mistakes. But you love your daughter, and you put her health and happiness first without hesitation. That’s a good start.” He leaned in towards me, and said, “If you let yourself, you’ll be a fantastic father. In truth, I think you already are.”

The earnest sincerity of his words was unexpected, and I felt my throat tighten past the point of speech. I sat in silence for a minute, and he stood in silence with me.

After a few unsuccessful attempts, I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“Thank you.”

“You seem to have little trouble believing your friends when they tell you you’ve done something wrong, Harry. I hope you have as much faith in them when they tell you you’re doing something right.” With that, he stretched his legs and, through a yawn, said, “You’ll have to excuse me. These old bones are accustomed to a much earlier bedtime, and I’m asleep on my feet.”

I followed him to the door, and held out his coat for him. As he bundled up, he whispered conspiratorially, “I put her to sleep at eight, but I think there’s a chance she may still be awake. I overheard her discussing her plan to wait up for you with the dog. I’m fairly certain he’s in on it.”

I grinned, and whispered, “I am completely certain that he is. Thank you again, father. You know you’re welcome here any time.”

I watched him walk out to his car and waved him off before shutting, locking, and warding the door. I rested my head again the cool wood for a moment, before turning to face the staircase. I took a slow breath, concentrated, and Listened.

Upstairs, I heard two heartbeats, one slightly lighter and faster than the other. I also heard a whisper, a quiet dog snort, and a giggle, followed by a series of rattles. Dice? I smiled to myself, began to climb the steps.

 


End file.
